


Five Stages

by obfonteri (aspiringenjolras)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Family Bonding, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Rocket's Man Pain™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringenjolras/pseuds/obfonteri
Summary: Rocket’s not good at losing people. Well, actually, he is. He’s really not good at mourning and grieving and all that stuff that comes after someone you care about dies. A look at how Rocket deals with Yondu’s death and all that follows.





	Five Stages

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be read as a standalone, or as a side-by-side companion to my other fic "[Rebuilding](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11161242)". Enjoy!

**Day +0**

When the bomb goes off, no one left down there is getting out alive. And well, Rocket is the one who made it. What happens is on him. The others are gone. Gamora, Drax. Nebula. Weird bug girl. It’s just him and Groot now. Quill who is… somewhere. And Yondu. Right in front of him.  _ Two minutes.  _ He says they have to go. 

“Not without Quill!” 

That’s the first attempt. Rocket’s not going anywhere while people he cares about are still on the planet. But he’s also not about to let Yondu know he cares about him, so he uses Peter as an excuse. It’s not enough to convince him, though. Rocket caves.

“Not without you.”

There it is. There’s a look they share, understanding. Sad. Rocket knows. Yondu knows he knows. And Rocket knows he knows he knows. But hell, he doesn’t have to accept it.

“I ain’t done nothing right in my whole life, rat. You need to give me this.”

And well… Rocket understands. Whatever fucked up relationship those two have, Yondu’s going to honor it. And if that means sacrificing himself for Quill, fine.  _ He  _ wouldn’t do it, but…

_ Yes I would. _

Rocket shoves that thought away fast. He doesn’t need to start going soft when he’s trying to save the galaxy. 

He just reaches into his harness. Fishes out a space suit and an aero-rig. Hands them to Yondu. 

“I only have one of each.” That’s not enough for two people to get off the planet. But Rocket knows that for Yondu, that doesn’t matter. One look at Yondu’s face tells him he’s right. He’s smiling, a little bit. Like he’s accepted it. Rocket doesn’t understand how he’s so calm.

“I…” What does one say to an enemy-turned-ally-turned-equal-in-every-way who’s going to be dead in a few minutes? Luckily, Groot manages to find the words Rocket can’t.

_ “I am Groot!” _

“What’s that?”

If he gets a little choked up translating, he’ll never admit it. “He says ‘welcome to the frickin Guardians of the Galaxy’. Only he didn’t use frickin.” They share a little smile, and Rocket flies off before he changes his mind. With a snark to Groot about language and a pat to his harness where the pieces of Yondu’s broken arrow sit snugly against him, he heads to the surface and doesn’t look back. 

When he gets to the ship, everyone’s asking where Quill is, and Rocket can’t say. He doesn’t know, and he’s afraid that telling them will make it permanent. But he knows that somehow, Yondu will save him, and if there’s any god out there who isn’t a titan or an overprotective evil father, then Rocket prays to them. He doesn’t know why no one’s asking where Yondu is. Rocket figures he’s screwed over the Guardians enough in the past for them to not be particularly invested in his fate. But heck, even the scrawny ugly little guy who seems to be Yondu’s partner, or boyfriend, or… whoever he is, doesn’t seem to notice. 

Well fuck that. Even if no one else cares what happens to Yondu, Rocket sure does. When Gamora tries to go back down there, Rocket doesn’t let her. “I can only lose one friend today,” he says. Everyone assumes me means Quill. But it’s Yondu he’s talking about. Quill’s making it back alive. Somehow. Rocket looks at the countdown and gives the order to take off, and they do, as the planet starts to explode below them.

Everyone is shocked when they see two figures rise into the atmosphere, but not Rocket. As soon as they figure out who it is, they pull them in with a tractor beam. The rest of the Guardians rush to the airlock, but Rocket drags his feet the whole way. He already knows what’s waiting for them: Peter, gasping and crying, and holding onto a very frozen blue body with crystallized eyes staring at nothing. They gather around Peter and Gamora helps him to his feet, getting him inside the main body of the ship, the others not far behind. They’ve barely acknowledged Yondu’s presence at all. So Rocket runs back to the bridge and up to Kraglin who is sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring out the window. He looks down at Rocket, but he just shakes his head. Something in Kraglin’s expression changes and he jumps up, running to the airlock, pushing past the others. Rocket watches him go, heart heavy, and climbs into the chair, curls up and hopes he can just disappear.

Quill’s in no state to pilot the ship, so that task gets left for Rocket and Kraglin. Mostly Rocket. The others assume Kraglin isn’t ready to leave Yondu, and they’re right. But Rocket wants to be there too. He resigns himself to steering the ship and ignoring everything around him. It’s only hours later, when he everyone’s gone to sleep, that Kraglin walks into the cockpit, bleary-eyed, and offers to take over for him. 

“When we were leaving Ego, you knew Yondu was still down there. Why didn’t you demand we stay and wait for him, like they all did with Quill?” 

Kraglin won’t look at Rocket. “I knew the Cap’n weren’t gonna leave without making sure he was safe. This whole mess he was in… wouldn’t have happened if he weren’t willing to sacrifice everything for Quill. We had to go. Stayin’ behind was his choice. Simple as that.” They hold each other’s gaze for a moment. Then Rocket nods and walks off. 

Kraglin (and he assumes Peter as well) have moved Yondu’s body out of the airlock. Tomorrow there will be a funeral. They’ll burn his body. Give him the best send-off they can. But it won’t be enough, Rocket thinks. Yeah, Yondu loved Peter and Kraglin, and maybe he even considered Rocket a friend. But other than that, the only people he cared about were the other Ravagers. He’d said they were the only family he knew, and they’d exiled him for collecting children for Ego. Yondu would want them to know that he was still loyal. He’d want their forgiveness. 

He finds the contact for the one Yondu mentioned, Stakar. Sends a transmission. “I… I’m one of the Guardians of the Galaxy. I was a… friend of Yondu’s. After you exiled him, his whole crew mutinied against him. Long story short, he ended up with us, we fought a planet, and he sacrificed himself to save the entire universe.”  _ And Quill, but maybe I shouldn’t mention that just now.  _ “Listen. I know he broke some weird moral code you people have. I know you probably all hate him as much as his crew did. But he was honorable, and brave, and he deserves a proper send off. We’re having a funeral for him tomorrow. I’m sending you our coordinates. If you still care about him at all, come. That’s all.” 

He pulls the arrow pieces out of his harness, finds some tools, and sets to work.  _ Yondu will be missing it if I don’t fix it.  _ He stays up all night and doesn’t stop until it’s reassembled. When he’s done, he sits next to Yondu’s body and looks out the window until morning.

 

**Day +1 (Denial)**

Peter is the first one to find Rocket in the morning. 

“Hey buddy,” he says. “Did you get any sleep?”

Rocket shakes his head.

“You should go eat some breakfast. I’m going to… get things ready here. For the funeral.”

_ Funeral. What funeral?  _ He doesn’t have the energy to argue. He stands up, and hands the arrow to Peter.

“I fixed this last night. Give it back to Yon... do whatever you want with it. I don’t care.” He turns and leaves before Peter can reply.

He’s eerily quiet at breakfast. Everyone is. Not a single joke from Drax. Gamora’s face is steel. Groot doesn’t make a peep, just walks across the table to sit on Rocket’s shoulder. Kraglin’s sitting apart from the others, making strong eye contact with his plate. Bug girl seems to feel the mood of the room and stays silent, face sad. 

Rocket feels nothing. It might be the sleep deprivation, but he can’t make himself feel anything anymore. Emotions are exhausting, and yesterday was more than full of them. It’s easier to pretend there’s nothing happening than to feel the pain of it Finally, Kraglin pushes his chair back loudly and stands up, walking out of the room. They all watch him go. 

A few minutes later, Peter walks in. He looks like he’s been crying. “It’s time,” he says quietly. 

They gather around Yondu. Peter’s fastened pieces of fabric across his forehead, eyes, and mouth to hide the worst of the damage. He and Kraglin have gathered little trinkets from around the ship and they’re finishing setting them around the body when Rocket trails in last and refuses to look. Peter speaks first, and it’s a heartfelt and moving speech, and so very  _ Peter _ . Rocket smiles.  _ Yondu’s there in the other room listening, and when this is over he’ll probably yell about sentiment and then smile when he thinks no one is looking. _ Peter finishes, and Rocket realizes they’re both crying. The floor is open for anyone else to speak if they want to, but no one seems to know what to say. Gamora leaves abruptly, following her sister. As usual, Groot breaks the silence.

_ “I am Groot.”  _ Rocket tries to smile, even though it doesn’t reach his eyes. The others look at the two of them curiously. 

“Yeah,” Rocket says,  fondly. “He did call you Twig.” There’s nothing else he can say when he’s barely accepted it. 

Rocket stands to the side as Peter and Kraglin guide the body into the furnace. He doesn’t want to watch, but he can’t look away. When Groot starts crying, he takes that as his cue to leave. From the cockpit, he watches the glittery ashes swirl away into the sky. Groot hops off his shoulder and runs off, and he blinks back tears.

Then out of the darkness, ships start appearing. Rocket’s breath hitches and he looks up in wonder. “They came…”

Everyone comes now, standing at the window and watching as color fills the sky. “I sent word to Yondu’s old Ravager buddies,” he explains, still wonderstruck. “Told them what he did.”

Peter’s voice cracks as fireworks explode around them. “It’s a Ravager funeral!”

Rocket looks around. He’s not sure where Kraglin is, but he hopes he’s seeing this. They stand there, gathered together, one big family all together. But Rocket knows that for him and Peter, the family will never be complete again. 

_ It’s not fair,  _ he thinks as he watches the sky light up.  _ Quill and Kraglin had years with Yondu. I had maybe 24 hours. He understood be better than anyone I’ve ever met. He was the ally I’ve needed my whole life, and I lost him as soon as I found him. I need him to just come back. Stop playing games.  _

“He didn’t chase them away…” seeing all the Ravagers there, paying their respects to Yondu even after everything he’d done… 

“No,” Peter agrees, stepping up behind Rocket. 

“Even though he yelled at them. I was always mean.”  _ I know everything about you, boy! Because you’re me.  _ “And he stole batteries he didn’t need.” Peter looks down at him, confused. Rocket doesn’t turn, but he feels his eyes on him, and silently wills him to understand that he’s not really talking about Yondu, but himself. And Peter does.

“Well of course not,” he says. Rocket just stares at the floor.   
__  
_ If they were right I’d agree _ _  
_ ___But it’s them they know, not me _

__

The last of the ashes swirl upward, mixing with the fireworks. He may be seeing things, his eyes blurry with tears that soak into his fur, but Rocket swears they take the form of an arrow before fading away. 

He stays there long after the spectacle ends and the Ravagers have left. The rest of the Guardians start to go about their business, Peter and Gamora rallying them together to put a plan for rebuilding. Rocket’s not interested in helping, and Peter doesn’t question him. He eventually falls asleep, for the first time in days. He dreams of colored lights and flying arrows.

 

**Day +2 (Anger)**

At this point, Rocket is on a completely different sleep schedule as the rest of the crew. Usually, he wouldn’t mind that. The less he has to deal with those idiots he calls a family, the better. But not now. He’s up with the dawn, and pokes around the ship, starting to get a feeling for the layout. And then he runs into Drax.

“Where were you yesterday?” he asks. “Quill and Gamora were assigning duties. You got left out of the roster.” 

“I was sleeping,” he snaps, gathering tools and bits of metal and wire he finds. If Drax wants to yell, he can follow him around the ship. He doesn’t care. “If I got left off the roster, then I don’t have to do chores. Why do you think I’m going to be upset about that, stupid?”

Rocket doesn’t know why he’s being so snarky. He’s not angry… at least not at Drax. The man hasn’t done anything wrong. Drax seems unfazed by Rocket’s attitude nonetheless. 

“You will probably get stuck with the gross jobs you will not want to do,” he presses. “I doubt Quill is going to let you off the hook.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocket snips. “Whatever. I get it. Listen, Drax, I don’t actually care about the dumb schedule, okay? Unless you have something important to say, leave me alone. I’m busy.” He bundled everything up in his arms, and Drax shakes his head.

“No. Nothing important.”  Rocket turns and walks away, leaving Drax to call out to his retreating back. “We were just worried about you, that’s all!”

Rocket pretends not to hear him. As soon as he’s rounded a corner and is out of sight, he drops his pile and slides to the ground, putting his hands in his paws. 

_ I can’t push them away. That’s what I did the first time. I was supposed to learn. I thought I did. But maybe I just can’t change.  _

_ “What are you like a professional asshole or something?” _ _  
_ _ “Pretty much a pro.” _

“Dammit, old man.” Rocket spoke aloud as if Yondu could somehow hear him. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself killed? I had so much to learn from you.”

He refuses to cry again. And he refuses to sleep through and miss out on any more “family gatherings”, so to speak. So he makes sure that he’s present at dinner when they all sit down together, and actually  _ talk  _ about things that  _ aren’t  _ death and dying and the imminent destruction of the galaxy, and he feels a little bit better. And when Quill tells Rocket he has to wash the dishes, he doesn’t complain.

 

**Day +7 (Bargaining)**

If nothing else, they have a routine. Up early. Breakfast. Chores and work. Break for fun shit. More work. Dinner. Hanging out until they fall asleep. Routine is good. Rocket likes routine. He likes the way it allows him to lock himself away during the day in the little room he shares with Groot and work. 

Peter’s tasked him with finding a way to expand the ship, because the tiny quadrant of the  _ Eclector  _ isn’t a big enough liveable space for six people, a not-raccoon, and a quickly-growing tree. “It’s not that hard,” he’d told Quill, “I just have to  _ build an entire freaking ship by myself!”  _

So it’s a little hard. Oh well. He can do it. He just likes giving the man a hard time, and he knows Quill feels the same. It’s how they cope. 

He sits on the floor of his room every day, pouring over plans and design ideas and cataloging what tools he has and what he needs to get.  _ I know I’m lazy. I know I don’t like to be a team player. But I will now. I promise. I’ll be good. Maybe that’ll be enough, and then…  _ And then… nothing. When he’s finally so frustrated that he wants to rip his eyeballs out, he sets the blueprints aside and pulls a little box from under his bed. In it, drawings of the prototype fin Yondu had worn, and a model that looks uncannily like it. Kraglin has the arrow now, and Rocket’s glad about it. But the Ravager can’t use it without a fin. Sure, he can probably find one he could steal somewhere, but making one from scratch is oddly therapeutic. Something inside him secretly hopes that if he forces himself to make it, weld and craft it by hand from nothing, Yondu will come and tell him he’s doing it wrong. Or that he’s stupid for bothering. It doesn’t matter. He just wants  _ something _ . His new design features a few modifications from the old fin, including a built-in aero-rig that connects to the arrow (similar to what Yondu used to escape the pod explosion below ground, but more advanced), and a spacesuit activator.  _ If I could’ve put this on Yondu’s old fin, he’d still be here.  _ He doesn’t know if it’ll work, but it’s worth a try. 

Either way, no one can know about it until it’s finished, just in case he fails. Which is entirely possible, because he has very little to go on. Just his memory of installing the implant on Yondu during their escape, and the little bit of information on the headpieces he’s been able to find. 

There’s a knock on his door, and Rocket scrambles to gather everything up and shove it in the box, but he’s not fast enough. The door opens and Gamora stands in the doorway. “I think it’s basic courtesy to wait to be let in” he grumbles, kicking pieces of metal under the bed. 

Gamora frowns and walks in, crouching down beside him. “Sorry, Rocket. I was just coming to check on you. No one’s seen you all day.”

Rocket shakes his head and tugs the blueprints for the new ship plan back in front of him. Maybe she won’t notice that he’s hiding something. “I’m fine,” he says gruffly. “Just working.” 

For someone who loves her privacy, Gamora sure isn’t interested in respecting his. “What’s this?” she asks, reaching under the bed and pulling out the half-built headpiece. Rocket puts his head in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he mutters. “Want to get out of my room? I said I’m working.”

Gamora ignores him, turning it over in her hands. “No… Rocket, is this a fin like Yondu had?” Well, there’s no going back now. He nods. “You made this?”

“Well it ain’t done yet!” He snatches it from her and drops it in the box with a little too much force. “Don’t tell anyone. It was supposed to be a secret, in case I can’t make it work. It’s for Kraglin, so he can use the arrow.”

There’s a strange look on Gamora’s face Rocket can’t really read. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Rocket,” she says. Well he can’t have her thinking he’s a softie all of a sudden. 

“Yeah, well. Gotta ease my conscience somehow.”  _ If only I’d been able to do more, I wouldn’t be doing this at all. _

There’s no reply to that. Gamora sits on the ground in front of him as he stares blankly at the ship blueprints.

“Can I watch you work?” Rocket’s suspicious about the intent behind that, but he doesn’t feel like arguing. 

“Sure, whatever you want.” He retrieves the fin and continues to tinker with it as Gamora watches in silence. 

  
**  
** **Day +14 (Depression)**

A week later, and Rocket doesn’t have much to show for his work. The ship repair plans have been pushed to the back burner, so to speak, or in this case, just under Rocket’s bed. He spends all his time working on the fin which is… problematic, to say the least. Constructing the model and wiring it to communicate with the arrow is easy enough. It’s the spacesuit and aero-rig he’s having trouble with.  _ It’s simple mechanics, you idiot. You’re better than this.  _ Or maybe he isn’t. Either way, he’s hit a wall. 

In his frustration, he throws the headpiece across the room and it slams into the wall. It’s luckily not damaged, other than a little chipping in the paint, but it’s overwhelming. He picks it up, cradles it in his arms, and puts his head between his knees. He eventually forces himself to get up and find the paint, touching up the little imperfections. He examines his work, held at arm’s length. It looks good. It doesn’t have the added features he’d wanted, but otherwise… it’s finished. And it looks more or less identical to the one Yondu had been wearing when he… the one Rocket had put on him. It’s time.

Rocket finds Peter in the cockpit, listening to his Zune. He rarely plays his music out loud anymore, and this was no exception. Peter doesn’t even notice Rocket was there until he taps his arm. Peter pulls out on earbud and then the other. “He lives!” he says lightly. “I was beginning to think your room swallowed you whole.” Rocket doesn’t smile, and Peter sees that. He sobers up a little. “What’s going on?”

Rocket thrusts the headpiece at him, wrapped in a little piece of fabric. “I made this. It’s for Kraglin. Give it to him.”

Peter frowns and unwraps it, his eyes widening when he sees what it is. “You… made this?” 

“Are you deaf?” Peter shakes his head.

“This is amazing, Rocket. I… he’ll appreciate this a lot. He’s been feeling pretty down. Carries the arrow around with him all day, never lets it go. I was just thinking I wish he could use it. It’ll work?” Peter looks at Rocker hopefully, and he scoffs.

“Of course it’ll work, look who you’re talking to. I can probably put it on him permanently if he wants that. Anyway, you’re welcome. Seeya later.” He turns to go, only for Peter to catch his arm.

“Wait.” Rocket sighs and turns around. This is already more socializing than he’s in the mood for right now. “You should be the one to give it to him.”

“No. Nope. No way. I don’t want the attention. Doesn’t matter to me. I just want him to have it. I got stuff to do—”

“I mean it.” Peter’s voice is soft, pleading, and Rocket groans. “He’d want to get it from you.  _ Really. _ ”

_ Well great. Like usual, everyone’s feelings matter except for Rocket’s _ . 

“Alright, fine. Let’s go find broody mohawk boy, shall we?”

They walk in silence, and stop outside one of the common areas. Kraglin’s in there, looking at something on his data pad. Peter goes up to him, Rocket trailing behind. 

“You have the arrow, Kraglin?” Peter asks, and Rocket watches as he pulls it from his jacket and holds it out in front of him like it’s made of precious metal. Which… it is, but Rocket knows it means more to Kraglin than what it’s worth in units. As it should. In return, he holds out the headpiece, uncovering it. 

Kraglin stares, eyes wide. Rocket watches him. Kraglin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, and he closes it again. Rocket rolls his eyes impatiently.

“Well jeez, say  _ something _ , even if it’s just  _ gee, thanks Rocket, for building me a fully functioning replica of Yondu’s fin. I really appreciate it _ .”

“I… I don’t…” Still at a loss for words, Kraglin just looks at Rocket. Their eyes meet, and they share a look. Rocket understands. He understands perfectly. But as much as he’d like to talk, he can’t. Not right now. 

“I’ll let Quill explain the rest,” he mumbles and turns, running out of the room. Kraglin and Peter are still talking, so he keeps running. He doesn’t want to hear what they’re saying. When he gets back to his room, he flops over on the bed. He knows he should go back to working on the ship plans, but he feels utterly exhausted now. That was more socializing than he’s done in days, and now the project he dedicated the last week to is over, and he has no tangible proof of it. This little piece of machinery that he’s poured his heart and soul into belongs to Kraglin now, and yeah that was the point, but he feels weirdly empty without it.

_ Probably because it was my last physical connection to Yondu _ .

He feels selfish for wanting to have something tangible to remember the Ravager by. Hell, it’s probably wrong for him to even be this upset.  _ Kraglin and Peter spent over 20 years with Yondu. I knew him for a few months and hated him for all but a day of that. I’m way out of line. Why haven’t they just told me to fuck off?  _

_ I just miss being understood.  _

_ Is that too much to ask for? _

  
**  
** **Day +30 (Acceptance)**

They say that grief only gets better with time. The next few weeks drag by, but every day Rocket starts to feel better. He gets back into the plans for the redesign of the  _ Eclector _ . The Guardians vote to keep the name, even though it’s only a quadrant of the original Ravager ship. It’s their way of honoring Yondu’s sacrifice. Rocket’s vision has the ship nearly doubled in size, with added space for storage, weapons, and recreation. The entire team is excited, and ready to help, so they head out to track down all the parts Rocket needs to start building. It feels good to get back out there, doing what they do best.  _ Maybe _ , Rocket thinks,  _ things are starting to go back to normal.  _

A month is just long enough for the non-Guardians to start getting stir crazy. Nebula has been itching to get away from them for weeks, so when they finally make their first pit stop, Gamora gets a ship for her. Turns out being two-time Galaxy savers earns you a little credibility, and a little sweet-talking goes a long way. Gamora gifts the little ship to her sister with the agreement that she’ll go and try to do some good, and won’t go after Thanos alone. She leaves without a goodbye, and no one seems that sorry to see her go, but Rocket can sense the ache in Gamora’s heart as they watch Nebula fly off. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. 

Kraglin leaves not long after. On a ship that he steals, because  _ of course he does, he wouldn’t be a Ravager if he didn’t _ . Peter and the others make it clear that he’s welcome to stay with them for as long as he wants, but he can’t stick around, and Rocker understands that, although he’s sorry to see him go. Kraglin’s a private guy, and he doesn’t give a lot of details about why he wants to take off. He says it’s because he accidentally stabbed Drax with the arrow while practicing and is afraid he’s going to return the favor while he sleeps, but Rocket at least knows that’s not true.

A few nights earlier, he “accidentally” overheard Kraglin telling Quill that he wants to go off and start to rebuild Yondu’s Ravager clan, collecting outcasts and the galaxy’s lost children along the way, giving them a home and a family while rebuilding his own. Rocket had considered asking Kraglin if he could come along. But he decides against it, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to know that plan. And either way, he doesn’t think he’d actually be able to leave the Guardians behind. They may not be Kraglin’s family, but they’re Rocket’s and always will be.

The six of them— Rocket, Groot, Quill, Gamora, Drax, and Mantis— help load the materials into the ship, and then the latter four spend the evening taking advantage of the nightlife of the city, partying and enjoying their first time to breathe and really  _ live  _ since Ego. Rocket and Groot stay behind on the  _ Eclector _ — Groot because Quill insists he’s too young to go “clubbing”, and Rocket because someone needs to babysit, and he can use the time to take inventory of the supplies.

Groot isn’t tired yet, so he sits on Rocket’s shoulder as he looks through the sheets of metal stacked in the tiny cargo bay. In the corner, he finds a crate, covered in a thick coat of dust. Curiously, he pries the lid off and peers inside. It looks like a bunch of Yondu’s old shit. He knows he shouldn’t be going through it; he should give it to Peter, or Kraglin if he were still here. But his curiosity, and a painful feeling in his chest get the better of him, so he starts sifting through the contents. It’s mostly little trinkets, a few knives. And at the bottom, what looks like photographs. Rocket pulls them out and blows on them, sending dust particles flying. The images cause his breath to hitch. In the first one, a little Terran boy who can only be Quill, sitting in a chair with his headphones on. In the second, a much younger Yondu standing next to an even younger Kraglin, murderous glares at the camera hidden behind very fake smiles. Rocket covers his mouth with a paw to stifle a laugh that threatens to escape. He looks at the last one. Yondu, older, grinning at the camera while he holds a teenage Quill in a headlock. Rocket smiles sadly as he holds the photo tenderly.

_ “I am Groot.”  _

Rocket looks up in surprise. The little tree has been so quiet, he’s forgotten he’s there. “Yeah bud. I miss him too.” 

_ “I am Groot?” _

He freezes. “What?”

_ “I am Groot!” _

Rocket’s throat goes dry, as he realizes what Groot’s asking. “He’s… he’s dead, pal. He ain’t coming back.”

_ “I am Groot.”  _

“Yeah… that’s what happens when people die. They’re gone.”

_ “I am Groot?” _

“Yes, forever. Death’s a pretty permanent thing, Groot. He can’t just…  _ grow back _ , are you serious?”

_ “I am Groot!”  _

“I know it’s not fair! I spent a long time hoping he’d show up and insult me, or call you Twig, but I know he won’t, because he can’t, because he’s dead.”

_ “....I am Groot.” _

“Doesn’t mean he’s not with us still. He is. Not physically but… in here.” Rocket gently pokes Groot where his heart would be if he had one, and then double-taps his own chest in a gesture not unlike a Ravager salute. 

_ “I am Groot?” _

“...Yeah. I bet he will visit you when you’re sleeping. If you want him too.”

_ “I am Groot!”  _

“Alright then. Let’s get you to bed.” Rocket tucks the pictures in his harness and stands, carrying Groot back to their room. By the time he tucks him into the tiny bed he made, he’s already fast asleep. “Goodnight pal,” he whispers. “I hope you dream of fireworks and flying arrows.”

Rocket sits on his own bed and slips the photos under his mattress. He’ll give them to Quill eventually, maybe, but for now, he has something of Yondu’s all to himself and he’s going to treasure it. He walks over to the window, looking out at the bright lights of the city. It’s tempting to stay here and let sleep overtake him. But he’s not that tired, and Groot’s fine, and his friends— no,  _ family _ — are out there, having a good time, and he figures that for once, he deserves that too. Just this once. He pulls Groot’s little blanket up, sets the security forcefields on the ship, and heads out to join the others, a spring in his step and a grin on his face for the first time in a long time.

 

**Day +365 (Life goes on)**

Rocket doesn’t really grasp the importance of “family reunions” — in fact, he’s pretty sure none of them do, but Peter insists that it’s a real special tradition on Terra, and since their Guardian family isn’t together all the time, they’re due for a get-together. They don’t dare argue.

The date’s relevance doesn’t escape anyone, but no one actually says it. It doesn’t need to be said. They’re all just happy to be together. Kraglin comes, bringing the small group of misfits he’s managed to recruit— including daughters of Thanos that Nebula tracked down, with a very disgruntled Nebula in tow. They refuse to confirm it, but it’s fairly obvious that they’ve been working together. Everyone in the Guardians seems pleased, but none more than Gamora. 

Rocket’s just glad he managed to finish the ship expansion in time. It had ended up being a much bigger project than he realized, and it took almost a year to finish. But the hard work paid off. The mangled shell of the  _ Eclector  _ is nearly unrecognizable now. It’s a gorgeous ship, and Rocket built it. Every time he gets a compliment on it, he nearly bursts with pride. It’s big enough to comfortably house the six permanent members of the Guardians team— including a teenage Groot who grew far faster than anyone expected and was promptly given his own room— and the large number of guests they now have roaming the corridors.

The first thing Kraglin does when he arrives is ask Rocket to permanently attach the implant, and Rocket does so with pride. He tests out the arrow after, and Rocket’s relieved to see his whistling skills have improved quite a lot in the months since he last saw him.

For the most part though, it’s a time to celebrate. Kraglin’s Ravagers are thrilled to meet the Guardians of the Galaxy, and in return, the team hangs on every word of the stories Kraglin tells them of his travels. Mantis helps Drax prepare a large spread of food in the kitchen for everyone. Nebula and Gamora spend time catching up in their own way, outside of the hustle and bustle of the crowd. After dinner, Peter gives a toast, plays his Terran music, and teaches everyone an old Ravager space shanty and dance he learned on Yondu’s ship. At the end of the night, Rocket shoot off fireworks, and everyone gathers to watch. 

They all end up passed out on furniture or in the empty guest cabins, tired from a long day of celebrating. Rocket sits by himself in the cockpit once again, staring out at the stars. As Peter leave to go to bed, he stops him.

“Hey Quill. C’mere. I have something for you.” Peter walks over curiously, and Rocket pulls out the three pictures. “I found these, months ago, in a box of Yondu’s old shit in the cargo bay. I was hanging onto them, but they’re yours to take.” He holds them out to Peter, who takes them hesitantly. Rocket watches his expression carefully. He covers his mouth, eyes swelling.

“I forgot all about these…” he says softly. “Yondu picked up a camera at a junker shop one day. We got a lot of use out of it before it broke, but I had no idea he kept any of these.” His gaze lingers on the one of Yondu holding him in a headlock, and then he holds it back out to Rocket. “Keep it. I’ll keep this one of me, and I’ll give the other one to Kraglin, but I think you should have one too.”

Rocket stares at him, dumbfounded. “...Why?”

“Because he meant just as much to you as he did to me and Kraglin. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.” Peter’s eyes stay on the two pictures still in his hands.

“But… this is the only picture of you and Yondu together…” Rocket protests. “You don’t want it?” Peter shrugs. 

“It’ll be on the ship, that’s good enough for me.” 

Rocket’s silent for a moment. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know,” Peter says, and for the first time, Rocket believes that he really does know. “You’re welcome.” Rocket nods, any other words getting caught in his throat. “Night, Rocket. Get some sleep.” 

“Night, Quill.” Peter walks off, and Rocket looks down at the photograph in his hands. He could take it back to his cabin, but it doesn’t seem right, so he fastens it above the console instead, so he and Peter can both look at it when they’re flying. 

Rocket reaches over to the stereo and clicks through the tracks of Quill’s music until he finds the one he’s looking for. He presses play and leans back in the pilot’s chair with a satisfied smile as music fills the cockpit.

_ And if you don't love me now _ __  
_ You will never love me again _ __  
_ I can still hear you saying _ _  
_ ___You would never break the chain _

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! If you got to the end of this, thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you. This fic is something I've been sitting on really since I saw Vol. 2 for the first time just about three weeks ago. I've spent the last few weeks stewing in the idea, collecting my thoughts and many a tumblr post for inspiration. 
> 
> Not all of the ideas referenced in here were mine originally-- I speak specifically about the idea that the other daughters of Thanos become Kraglin's Ravager clan, and also [THIS](http://starlordudonta.tumblr.com/post/161792897439/how-to-make-yourself-sad-wondering-if-baby-groot) post by starlordudonta on tumblr about Groot's lack of understanding of mortalty. 
> 
> Other than that, I just have some people to thank. First and foremost, all my tumblr followers who encouraged this mess, and all my faithful commenters/kudos leavers on my other fics. You guys are the reason I keep writing! Secondly, to the "soup soup" groupchat-- y'all know who you are. I love you guys. Thanks for feeding the monster.
> 
> If you like what you read, leave me a kudos and drop a comment down there! I'd love to hear your thoughts. And don't forget to come say hi on tumblr at [obfonteri](http://obfonteri.tumblr.com)!


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